Previous: Interlude III | Next: Chapter 13
From my very limited experience with other people, and especially with people apparently very unlike me, I had so far learned basically three things. They were always moving, they liked to say a lot of things, and they didn’t always say exactly what they meant. They omitted the finer points that nevertheless seemed far too important. They lied.
It wasn’t a completely foreign idea, in theory. I was figuring it out, if far from practiced. (A thought about the book I’d borrowed and told nobody about gnawed at the back of my mind before being hurriedly dismissed.)
There were some things that they offered readily, with their voices and their faces; when they were angry, scared, hostile. Sometimes they changed and contorted into plain displays of what they really felt. When it came to mortals, it was tough– though approximately two was not a very robust sample size to be making any judgments by, and either way I was working with what I had.
However, I decided that immortals were easier. Without the experience to see in their slightest actions what they saw in each other, the way Marcel and the others bent the energy of the world to their wills, even unconsciously, was the best I had to go on. That was a raw, real expression, one I could understand; if I simply paid enough attention I could make out surprise, and curiosity, and apprehension.
Marcel, his aura flickered, sometimes, a flame with many tongues reaching out and fading into the air. Senna– he didn’t force anything to happen unless it had to, I could tell, our little bout had shown me that much. Always… drifting. Valerie was calm and reserved, precisely in control. Of all of them, he was the most subtle.
And Cherie, I felt, would not appreciate my commentary. But she was who she was, too. I didn’t know if anything could replicate that signature, as unique as the clouds but far less ephemeral. Like… the arrangement of the stars, maybe. River was just the same.
Even that was only on the surface, though. On a deeper level, below the unconscious in the animal and automatic, what did the other immortals’ auras say for them? I didn’t have an answer besides… something. Something important.
Mortals weren’t so open. But I also decided that among them, Captain Balancia was maybe the least intimidating. Much less so than the strangers we passed.
I found myself welcoming his company, welcoming the closest thing to another outsider’s perspective as was available to me at the moment, while it seemed I was going to have at least some solitude during my stay in Solace. Other eyes were on me, now. I remained distinctly, uncomfortably aware of that.
In the end it wasn’t long before the two of us reached our destination. It probably felt longer than it was, deep in the silence we lapsed into after what I figured was a somewhat uncomfortable conversation for both of us (but I was thankful he had at least indulged me).
Speaking of that surface level, I could tell that Marcel – as he stepped forward to greet us and we all exchanged pleasantries below an awning fluttering in the breezy street – was perfectly calm and collected, which wasn’t surprising considering that he had seemed almost perpetually calm and collected since we’d arrived. This was his home, after all. It proved the point; everything here, they were long since used to it.
“Auvu ben e’ouvil?” asked the attendant at the door as Marcel and I strode into the building’s shady interior– he waved off whatever it was he was offering with a few more words. Balancia quickly took his leave with only a brief nod, even after the reassuring candor he’d shown me. But it wasn’t as if I could keep him around. His back was already turned when I nodded back.
We continued in and past rows of tables and chairs, small groups of people talking and laughing and eating. The noise wavered as we passed, attracting the attention that appeared to be inevitable, here. The cocktail hanging in the air, a dozen smells rising from every table, it was… all-enveloping. Heady in complexity.
At the far end of the room was another open doorway, though, and beyond that doorway was a much narrower, quieter room, with far fewer eyes casually drifting across us and far less aromatic steam hanging below the ceiling, even if it was arranged in much the same way. Floor-to-ceiling windows were obscured by lacquered wooden shutters for privacy’s sake, letting strokes of late-afternoon sunlight pour onto the only occupied table.
“There she is!” cried Senna, the exact opposite of Valerie’s stoic, half-sweep wave. Just the four of us. “You doing well? How was Erias? Between you and Val – and I should hope some sleep, gracious, on their ends, I mean – I haven’t had the chance to catch up with those guys.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “And I think he’s fine too...?”
“Captain Balancia and the rest of his team are all well,” said Valerie without looking up. “Everything is fine. At the moment.”
“Oh, well, glad to know you’ve got an eye out after all. How omniscient of you.”
After some hesitation I slid into a hard seat at the corner of the table, across from Marcel and next to Senna. In the opposite corner, across an arrangement of small cups, utensils and a fragrant vase of flowers, Valerie was silently keeping to himself. If Cherie had been invited, they didn’t comment on her absence.
Another mortal in earthy tones came to the table and took requests from the others as we settled down; when she got to me she started in that language again before seemingly reading the incomprehension on my face, switching to gently-accented Lumil I could understand. “I’m sorry, what will you be having? More drinks?”
Marcel moved like he was about to say something before abandoning the thought. “Um. I don’t know what there is to have,” I said, “but if you’re offering, if it isn’t trouble, I mean… I don’t remember the last time I ate something.”
“If you don’t have a preference, I can just bring the original order?” she said helpfully, with a conspicuous cock of her eyebrow.
“I’m sure there’ll be plenty,” said Senna.
“Yes. That’s probably fine.”
“Excellent!” She took one last look around the table, noting the four of us before stepping back out. “The kitchen does not disappoint. Just let me know if you need anything else.”
“Oh, thank you, I’m not worried about that,” said Marcel with a thin-lipped smile.
The table descended into the silence that had probably been there before we arrived, the only noise the background hum of the other tables outside. And the rest of the city, just underneath. And Senna fiddling with his cutlery. Marcel watched Valerie, and Valerie stared off into the space between the shutters to the street outside.
“So…” I said, “what’s going on? What happened?”
Marcel coughed, turning to meet my eyes. Senna raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”
“Why am I here?” I asked, suddenly agitated. I gestured ineffectually to the quiet room. “Here? Why did you send Balancia to get me?”
There it was. A tiny, only barely-distinct flush in his field of energy, if not his face, as he realized what I was expecting. Maybe I should have tempered those expectations when it was still so soon, but I couldn’t help it. Wasn’t a reaction that exactly instilled confidence in me.
“Ah.” He took a sip from his glass, and after a moment I tried it too. Icy water. I was surprised by how refreshing it was. “I thought we could eat!” Marcel diverted. “Get together... well, get most of us together, anyway, for lunch or dinner or whatever this is...”
“Brunch,” said Valerie.
For a moment, all eyes turned to him. “...I had to change the reservation. They were very specific about the terminology.”
Senna grimaced. Just a little. “Alright. I get the feeling that you maybe forgot to manage expectations here, Marcel? Because last night–”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he groaned. “I realize you might’ve thought we had some breakthrough– and it’s not that I haven’t gotten started on the search, and all, it’s just that these things take time. And meanwhile we’ve been meaning to have a dinner – brunch – like this, anyway, and Val and I figured we could give you something to do other than wait around for. Uh. News.” He looked around the table. “Help me out here.”
Neither moved to jump in; Senna just chuckled. “No, hang on, I’d like to see where you’re going with this. It’s so riveting.”
“In my defense, Val, you said you would also handle the invitation through Balancia, and I feel on that front there may have been a lack of communication–”
“I entrusted the message to Doctor Rode, among other things which took precedence over my time,” Valerie said, quietly, but not without force.
That stung a bit. “It’s been one day,” I reminded myself. “It’s fine.”
“Right. Let’s forget all that, though! I actually am glad you brought up the other thing, Adeline, because I assure you things are going smoothly so far. We’re in the process of looking into you, though we also wanted to keep this quiet, relatively. I’m sure I said before that it’s only a matter of time.”
“You did. I know.”
“We’ll be digging. It’ll happen.” Marcel said. His aura changed again, calmed. The flicker dying down. “You don’t have to stay, but if you’d like to stick around and… socialize, for a while, instead of waiting at that house…?”
He trailed off, not quite asking a question, not quite doing anything. I thought it couldn’t hurt, though talking was clearly not my strong suit. And yet…
Damn it, I’m going to make the most of this.
When the server came back, pulling a narrow covered cart with her into our secluded booth, the sparse conversation fizzled. The smell intensified sharply the moment she arrived, and when she started pulling out trays and plates of food to set them on the table it unfolded into an intricate bouquet of notes all playing off one another, changing with the flow of air and heat.
I shifted in the chair to find a better position, one I could actually start to relax in, tugging and smoothing out my clothes and letting the tension out through my fingers. Senna leapt up and picked up a couple of plates on his own, setting them down between us. I stared. “You all eat together? All the time?”
“Yeah, in theory,” said Senna. He plucked a roll from one of the trays, popped it into his mouth, chewed, swallowed. “It doesn’t happen often, though. Everyone is so very busy.”
The server took her leave again with a quiet thanks from the others as Senna slid back into his seat next to me. Marcel gave a glance to the empty seats before quickly looking to survey the table himself. “...What did you eat, there?”
“Oh. I didn’t often,” I said. As I looked my stomach made me uncomfortably aware of that.
The portions were small, and scattered in neat collage across the table, but the variety alone was enough to astonish me. It was rows of vegetables (cooked, too, most of which I couldn’t say I’d seen in my life), sweet stuffed buns and a basket of still-steaming dumplings, small bowls of thick soup and a couple cups of tea and a cruet of salt and spices.
Tentatively I picked up another of those rolls, lifted it to my lips. I bit down sharply into it and whatever was inside practically melted in my mouth, savoury enough to make me stop in my tracks for several seconds, a shock to my system. “That is. Good.”
Senna just beamed at me. I swallowed and couldn’t help my eyes wandering over the rest of the table as I spoke without a mouthful of food. “...I grow vegetables. Catch fish, sometimes. Usually if I happen to read something that inspired me.”
“I’m sure this will be very different, then,” Marcel said, picking out his own brunch. “Maybe you’ll take some ideas back with you.”
“Okay, that sounds good in theory too,” Senna added, “but if you’re essentially the sole culture of this island of yours, it’s imperative that you at least come back with a little variety. Not just the boring stuff from the city. This is a culinary journey that you’d have to follow all over the continent. Up north there might be things closer to what you’re used to, but if you head east, say– well, Ludeande is a given, but also the oases in Monsette have this particular–”
“This journey seems less than feasible,” said Valerie flatly, cutting the rambling short. “Unless you’ve suddenly solved time travel. Or teleportation.” Marcel let out a startlingly uncharacteristic snort.
“Maybe I did. You don’t know me.”
“Yes I do.”
“No you don’t!”
“I might visit,” I agreed, trying not to get distracted. Maybe not the city, but… the countryside was pleasant enough.
“Actually, if you can identify some of those plants you mentioned that will probably help us out a great deal. It’s a good place to start. Sometime this week, maybe. But,” Marcel continued, “that reminds me, Val, about the archival data...”
“You two really can’t put your business away for a measly hour.”
“There are only so many hours in the day, Senna. And it’s important.”
“I… I really don’t mind.”
“There you have it. Both of you can shut it. If we can get off that subject, though, finally...”
The conversation became mostly self-sustaining before long, with the occasional weighty interjection from Valerie or a few words from myself when it seemed right. It was interesting enough just to listen to them spiral. They went back and forth sometimes faster than I could follow.
Things would be different, when I went home.
I settled deeper into my chair. Gradually my fingers got distracted, too. And I did learn what honey tastes like.
Previous: Interlude III | Next: Chapter 13
Comments